


It's Always You,

by Stonystarks



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mob Boss Steve Rogers, Morally Grey Steve Rogers, Young Tony Stark, mentions of past violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23381320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stonystarks/pseuds/Stonystarks
Summary: “You what, Steve? You wanted to see if I still cared? If showing up out of the blue covered in blood would get some kind of reaction out of me? If I still woke up in the middle of the night terrified that whatever unnamed thing you do is gonna end up killing you? If the thought of you winding up in a ditch somewhere kept me up at night? Because it does!” More than anything, Tony wanted to pull himself away—rip himself out of Steve’s grip and tell him to fuck off—but Tony was so, so very weak when it came to Steve Rogers, so all he ended up doing was bringing his own hands up to twist into the front of Steve’s ruined shirt. “Please, Steve,” Tony choked out, squeezing his eyes shut as his fists clenched harder, the knuckles turning white. “You can’t keep doing this to me, I can’t-”“I love you.”Tony felt his whole body go rigid, his eyes snapping open to meet Steve’s gaze as his breath caught in his throat.“What?” He breathed.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 259





	It's Always You,

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [this post](https://pasta-noob.tumblr.com/post/613873430989799424/insert-angst-hurt-comfort) by [pasta-noob](https://pasta-noob.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! It was a very inspiring gifset.

“Steve?” Tony murmured, surprise and fear rooting him to the spot.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve croaked, a smile that looked more like a grimace fighting its way over his lips.

“What—” Tony started, then cut himself off, unsure what to even ask.

_What happened to you? What are you doing here? Why are you covered in blood?_

They were all questioned burning at the front of Tony’s mind, but the only one that managed to slip out was a soft, “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was partly because he was afraid Steve wouldn’t answer any of the other questions—Lord knows it had been like pulling teeth to get Steve to answer anything remotely personal in the past, when they’d been…well, when they’d been heading towards _something;_ when their relationship was bordering on that edge of more than friends—or maybe it was because, in that moment, the only thing that mattered was making sure Steve was _okay_ , that he wasn’t _hurt._ All the other stuff, figuring out what happened, if that was someone else’s blood, all of it, that could wait until _after_ Tony made sure Steve was okay.

“I-” Steve started, floundering for words for a few moments, obviously expecting Tony to ask a different question.

_Ha_ , Tony thought, _you don’t know me as well as you thought, do you_?

“I’m fine,” Steve finally muttered, his gaze settling on Tony’s own. “I’m okay, Tony. Really,” he added after Tony’s raised eyebrow.

“Fine, you’re okay then.” And maybe Tony sounded a little more bratty than he should’ve, especially considering Steve was obviously injured and upset, but really! Steve was standing in front of him, bruised and bloody, saying he was _fine_? Steve was _always_ fine. He was always _just fine, Tony_ , and _really you shouldn’t worry yourself about it, Tony_ and _really it’s just a couple scratches, Tony, nothing serious._ Tony was _tired_ of just fine, and _tired_ of Steve treating him with kid gloves—like Tony was too young to know what was going on, too _stupid_ to figure out that there was obviously something more to the bullshit Steve always tried to brush off. Tony was tired of all of it.

It might’ve been different before, when Tony and Steve we’re still on the brink of something more and he was blind to so many of Steve’s faults, but it was different _now._ Now Tony wasn’t so willing to overlook Steve’s purposefully vague excuses, his slightly odd behavior, his constant brushing off of suspicious wounds. Now Steve had sought _him_ out, Steve had shown up outside his dorm covered in blood that _might not even be his,_ and he what? Expected Tony to just _drop it?_

_Not likely_ , Tony thought marching forward until he was stood toe-to-toe with Steve. “You’re totally. Fine,” Tony repeated, glaring up at Steve. “100% okay. That why you’re _covered_ in blood and littered with bruises.”

“Tony-” Steve tried to interject, but _no_ , oh no no no, Tony wasn’t even _close_ to done yet. He’d only just started.

“And that’s why you’ve showed up here, outside my fucking dorm, at 2am. That’s why you look like one good shove will knock you over. It’s all because you’re _just fine_.” Tony’s voice had gotten more shrill the longer he’d talked, he was aware, but his disbelief at the situation _kept growing._ Steve Rogers was an absolutely ridiculous human being.

“Tony, please-”

“What the fuck are you even _doing_ here if you’re so okay? Why show up, after _weeks_ of your little disappearing act, looking like a fucking extra from fucking _Texas Chain Saw Massacre_ and making me-” Tony cut himself off, his throat closing up with the worry he was trying so hard to bury under anger.

But up this close, Tony could see the deep slices littering Steve’s face, he could see the gash sluggishly bleeding down his neck, pooling blood a deep shade of red into the collar of his shirt. He could see the dirt caked on Steve’s skin, the dark circles under his eyes, the barely restrained tears threatening to fall down his cheeks.

Tony heard a choked off sob, only to belatedly realize it was coming from _himself._ It was his own throat that let out that awful, gut wrenching noise. Tony watched as Steve’s face crumpled, his hands coming up to frame Tony’s own face.

“Tony, sweetheart, I-” but then he stopped, he didn’t say anything else, just stared down at Tony with those big, sorrowful eyes as the blood from his hands smeared over Tony’s cheeks.

Tony wanted to _scream._ He was so goddamn tired of this back and forth bullshit. Either Steve wanted to tell him, or he _didn’t._ It was really that simple, and Tony was exhausted trying to keep up with him.

“You _what,_ Steve? You wanted to see if I still cared? If showing up out of the blue covered in blood would get some kind of reaction out of me? If I still woke up in the middle of the night _terrified_ that whatever unnamed thing you do is gonna end up _killing_ you? If the thought of you winding up in a _ditch_ somewhere kept me up at night? Because it does!” More than anything, Tony wanted to pull himself away—rip himself out of Steve’s grip and tell him to fuck off—but Tony was so, so very weak when it came to Steve Rogers, so all he ended up doing was bringing his own hands up to twist into the front of Steve’s ruined shirt. “Please, Steve,” Tony choked out, squeezing his eyes shut as his fists clenched harder, the knuckles turning white. “You can’t keep doing this to me, I can’t-”

“I love you.”

Tony felt his whole body go rigid, his eyes snapping open to meet Steve’s gaze as his breath caught in his throat.

“What?” He breathed, not daring to raise his voice over a whisper in fear that this was all some hallucination—that Steve might evaporate before his eyes and Tony would wake up cold and alone and missing Steve something _aching._ “What did you just say?”

Steve visibly swallowed. “I said I love you. I-I’m _in love_ with you, Tony, and I don’t. I _can’t_ live without you, I don’t want to.” Steve leaned forward, bringing his forehead to rest against Tony’s as his eyes fell closed. Tony, predictably, felt the burn of tears surfacing in his own eyes. “And I’m sorry, Tony, God I’m _so fucking sorry_. These last few weeks have been awful, Tony, just absolute hell without you. I, before I met you everything was fine,” and wow, didn’t that sting a bit, but Steve wasn’t done yet. His eyes popped open, and he leaned back just far enough to make eye contact without their eyes crossing. “I knew what I did was dangerous, and it just wasn’t _logical_ to bring someone into that, and so I didn’t. And then you happened almost on _accident,_ and you turned my whole fucking world upside down in a matter of _weeks_ , Tony, _weeks_. I didn’t even see it coming, didn’t even _realize_ there was something missing from my life, something I needed like fucking _air._ And I _knew,_ okay, I _knew_ you were becoming too important to me, but I’m _dangerous,_ Tony. So fucking dangerous, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. So I did what I thought was best for both of us and I just. I disappeared. I tore myself out of your life completely, and, like an absolute jackass, I thought I’d be fine. It would suck for a while, but I thought I’d be okay.”

Steve sucked in a harsh breath, lowering his gaze to Tony’s chest before continuing. “I was wrong. Fuck, was I wrong, and it wasn’t until earlier tonight, when I was staring down the barrel of a gun thinking about everything I’d do _differently,_ if only given the chance, that I realized exactly how wrong I was.”

Tony felt his breath catch painfully in his throat at the admission. He’d known Steve didn’t exactly participate in the _safest_ of hobbies, but hearing him admit to being on the wrong side of a gun? That his life was so close to being over just hours previously? It was enough to send Tony’s mind spiraling into panic.

“I-I don’t expect you to forgive me, Tony, and I understand if you want me to fuck off and stay out of your life forever, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t _not_ tell you. I just…I needed you to know.”

Tony took a deep breath, his mind still reeling from the implications of Steve’s speech—he fucking _loved_ Tony, _loved_ him, and fuck if that didn’t blow Tony’s mind—and still trying to puzzle out what Steve meant by dangerous.

It was obvious in the way he looked in that moment and the way he talked that Steve Rogers was a man well-versed in hurting people—but it also didn’t fit the image Tony had of the Steve Rogers he knew. The Steve he knew had been sweet, patient, _kind._ He’d listened to Tony, carried his books for him, he’d fucking cooked him breakfast every morning. He’d _always_ give Tony that goofy grin when he did something ridiculous—the one that said he was as equally besotted with Tony and all of his quirks as Tony was with Steve and all of his—and he was so, _so_ gentle with every touch. Every time he’d carry Tony to bed after too much time spent on projects, every time he’d wrapped Tony in his arms after a particularly harsh day, every time he’d reached for Tony’s had—a gesture that had been more grounding than Tony had ever thought it could be.

Maybe Steve Rogers was a dangerous man. Maybe he was covered in more of someone else blood than his own, and maybe he was more comfortable with a weapon than Tony had ever realized.

But Tony also realized that Steve would never hurt _him._ Steve has always gone out of his way to show Tony just how much he _didn’t_ want to hurt him, and that had to mean _something_ , didn’t it?

“I think,” Tony started, using his grip on Steve’s shirt to pull him a little closer. “I think that you should get cleaned up. Wash all the blood and dirt off of you, and then you should let me take a look at some of these cuts.” Tony heard Steve’s next breath stutter into his lungs, his eyes so blue and so hopeful as they stared down at him. “And then I think we should sit down and have a _very long_ talk about what it is, exactly, that you do.”

“And after that?”

Tony stared at Steve a bit longer, turning the question over in his head. There was no doubt in his mind that he was equally in love with Steve, and he wanted to be with him almost more than anything.

Still, there was a lot Tony didn’t _know_ about Steve, and who knew where his head would be at after Steve spelled it all out for him?

_Still in love with him_ , a small voice in the back of Tony’s mind supplied. And, with a start, Tony realized that voice was _right._ It didn’t matter what Steve did, Tony would still want to be with him. Tony knew Steve well enough to know that whatever it was he got up to couldn’t be purely evil—Steve was too good for that. He might’ve been very clearly morally gray, but it was obvious that Steve wasn’t someone who could go around hurting people just for the thrill of it.

Tony had always been unfairly attracted to the morally gray characters. Steve Rogers was just _asking_ for Tony to fall in love with him.

“After that, I guess we’ll have to see where the night takes us.”

Steve bit down on his bottom lip, nodding his head even as Tony watched some of the hope in his eyes die. It was clear he thought whatever it was he was about to tell Tony would scare him off for good.

Tony thought Steve didn’t know him very much at all. But that was okay, there was still time.

Steve started to pull away, his hands falling away from Tony’s cheeks and his expression already closing itself off from Tony in preparation for rejection, but Tony didn’t want that. He wanted _Steve_ , the ugly bits of his life included, and there was only one way Tony could think of to prove that.

He yanked Steve forward with the fists still tangled in his shirt, going up on his toes in order to crash his lips into Steve’s own, blood and dirt and all. Steve let out a small gasp against Tony’s mouth, his body rigid with surprise, before he absolutely _melted_ against Tony. One minute, Steve was standing hard and unyielding in front of Tony, a man ready to face the firing squad, and the next he was curving into him, his whole body going slack as he threw himself into the kiss.

And, God, what a kiss it was. Tony had always expected Steve would be a talented kisser, but his theories had _nothing_ on reality. Steve kissed with his _whole body._ One of his hands curved around the back of Tony’s head, twisting in the short hairs at the back of his neck, while the other curved over his jaw, tilting his head back until he was able to lick into Tony’s mouth without any resistance—not that Tony was planning to make it difficult for him, because he most certainly _wasn’t._

Tony was just trying to keep up—Steve set a pace that was slowing driving Tony out of his damned _mind._ One minute it was slow, deep kisses, the next it was short, biting nips. Tony was slowly unraveling in Steve’s hands out here in the _middle of the street._

Jesus, but had Steve really fried his brain.

Tony pulled back, planting a firm hand to the middle of Steve’s chest and pushing to try and get some space between them.

He barely repressed a groan as he took in the sight in front of him—Steve’s lips were a deep red, swollen and spit slick, and his eyes were glassy with what Tony could only identify as _hunger._ It took all of his willpower not to reel Steve right back in.

“Steve, c’mon, we’ve gotta get you inside and cleaned up before someone sees you. We can continue this later.”

Steve looked equal parts surprised, delighted, and scared at Tony’s words.

“You promise?” Steve whispered.

Tony felt his heart skip a painful beat in his chest, his posture softening and he took Steve’s hands into his own. “I promise,” he whispered back, just as soft as Steve had been.

The smile he received in return was the most stunning thing Tony’s ever received in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me [right here](https://stony-starks.tumblr.com/) if you wanted to scream about these two idiots


End file.
